


ache for a splash of the sun

by My_King_And_Your_Lionheart



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Alcohol, Character Study, Coming Out, Connor is a useless gay when approached by a cute boy, Drunkenness, FTM Whiskey, Gender Identity, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Kegsters, M/M, Nicknames and the Hatred of them, One Million Tense Changes, Panic Attacks, Probably Out Of Character Lets Be Real, Supportive SMH Team, This Is So Much Longer Than I Planned For It To Be, Trans Character, Trans Whiskey, Writer is Heavily Projecting, let my boy be happy and part of the team, mentions of transphobia, this was supposed to be short
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-31
Updated: 2018-05-31
Packaged: 2019-05-04 04:04:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14584557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/My_King_And_Your_Lionheart/pseuds/My_King_And_Your_Lionheart
Summary: Whiskey has a name. He'd like for people to use it. The team adjusts.





	ache for a splash of the sun

**Author's Note:**

> Very first thing I'll say about this piece-- I'm writing to better understand myself and my relationship with gender. I realize that not everyone's experience is the same, or similar at all. Connor, particularly with his seeming desire of wanting to be called by his name and not a nickname, really felt like a character I related to. I happen to be non-binary, so if I've fudged something up with the binary trans experience, I apologize and would not be adverse to fixing it if I've done something offensive or fucked up.
> 
> All that said, if ur gonna bitch because I made him trans u can leave and never bother me again.
> 
> Title from Cough Syrup by Young the Giant
> 
> Unbeta'd, so if y'all could point out any mistakes that would be awesome!

Connor thought he knew what he was getting himself into when he signed up to play hockey all those years ago. Then again, he hadn’t really been _him_ when he’d started. But his mom had been really supportive and sent his dad packing when it turned out his dad wasn’t as chill about it. Connor had even gotten top chop before college, and that had really helped. His mom still slipped up, but those times were few and far between, and no one at Samwell would have the chance to slip up, because his name was Connor, and he passed.

Tony isn’t the first guy Connor meets on the freshman tour with the hockey team. No, Connor meets someone who’s name begins with a J, and that’s about all he remembers about that person. But Tony’s eyes are bright, and his smile even brighter, so Connor lets himself sit back and watch him. He watches everyone, really, but Tony has something about him that makes it hard for Connor to look away.

They ask him if Whiskey is okay. Connor knows he can’t exactly say no, not if he wants these guys to like him; besides, he’s been called worse nicknames on the ice, and nicknames never really happen off the ice anyway, not with the teams he’s been on before. He can handle games and practices being called Whiskey. It’s better than- will always be better than--. It’s fine. Whiskey is fine.

Whiskey is _not_ fine. Whiskey is all Connor ever gets called anymore. By his professors, by his classmates, by the coaches, by his teammates, even his friends on the lacrosse team call him Whiskey, and Connor has had about enough.

He doesn’t know why the nickname bothers him so much. Well, he thinks he knows, but he isn’t quite sure. It’s just that Connor took so long to pick, and there are still days when it feels like maybe it doesn’t fit quite right, but it’s comfortable, and it’s his and he loves his name. He loves his name, the way it sounds coming from his mother all proud and tearful when he tells her he scored another goal during a game. He loves how his name sounds coming from his little sister, sharp and clear, and from his baby brother, who can barely speak but who’s first word was _Connor_.

So Connor is less cool than he thought he’d be about Whiskey. But he doesn’t know how to tell the rest of the team, because if they want a reason Connor is going to yell the truth at them, and he doesn’t want the team looking at him any differently. They haven’t noticed the scars from surgery, yet, and sometimes Poindexter says some rude ass things, even if he apologizes for it later. Getting called Whiskey makes Connor’s skin itch in a way that Connor doesn’t know how to deal with without scratching until his arms bleed, without pouring rubbing alcohol on the wounds just to feel them burn.

In the end, Tony is the first of the team to find out. It’s an offhand comment made by an asshole from Harvard telling Connor he plays like a girl. It’s not the first time Connor’s been told that, not even the first time this season, but for some reason this one is the last straw.

They crush Harvard, a shut out that Chris deserves, and they all celebrate on their way back to the locker rooms. Connor can’t really bring himself to join in on the festivities. He manages to keep it together long enough for the rest of the team to hit the showers, leaving him to shower last like he normally does, before the tears start falling. He’s got five minutes before Justin is the first one out like always, off to study or sleep or plan a kegster. Probably the kegster, if how Connor can still hear the yelling from the showers in the locker room is any indication.

“Hey, Whiskey!” It’s Tony, probably the last person Connor wants to see right now. Connor rubs at his eyes, trying to make the tears stop, but it’s no use. This has been a long time coming, and Connor probably should have tried to put it off longer. “Whiskey? What’s wrong?” Connor feels a hand on his back from where he’s bent over his knees, and it’s Tony, hand moving in soothing circles that only cause Connor to cry harder.

“Stop calling me that!” It’s loud, too loud in the empty locker room, and when Tony pulls his hand back, Connor wants to curse. “My name is Connor. Not Whiskey.” Connor spits the nickname, because, oh, does he hate it the same way his sister hates Justin Bieber and his brother hates broccoli. With a burning, all consuming rage that is now being turned on the poor bystander that just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.

“Okay, Connor.” Tony is soft, now, because he hates being yelled at, is always being yelled at for how many questions he asks. Connor hates that he made Tony sound like that. “What’s wrong?” Connor leans into Tony, finds Tony’s hand and holds it in both of his.

“I just want people to call me by my name. That’s all I want.” Connor turns his head into Tony’s shoulder as he hears footsteps approaching. Justin’s done.

“Shit, Tangs, Whisk, you guys okay?” Connor’s eyes are closed, so he doesn’t see it when Tony puts his arm around Connor’s head, hiding him from Justin, but he does feel it when Tony speaks.

“Yeah, Ransom, Connor’s fine. It’s just been a long day.” Justin lets out a little laugh, but it’s not the one he usually uses when something seems funny to him.

“Yeah, that was a wild game. Well, feel better Whi-“ Tony must give Justin a death glare that rivals Larissa’s, because Justin changes tracks fast- “Connor. Yeah, let me know if you guys need anything. There’s a kegster tonight at 8, and Connor you gotta be there to do your stands, dude. Got two goals and an assist, so you know what that means!” Connor clears his throat, because Justin is probably expecting some kind of answer, if only to make sure Connor’s actually alive.

“Yeah, I’ll be there.” Tony’s had squeezes him where he’s still holding it. “We’ll be there.”

“Swawesome. Peace out Tangs, Connor.” Connor can picture Justin doing that dorky salute he does when he leaves, and then the footsteps recede. The rest of the team will be filing in soon, and Connor would rather not be here when they do.

“Shower?” His voice is croaky, but it doesn’t crack, and Connor’s pretty grateful about that. He’s gotta keep some dignity, however little it is.

“Sounds good to me. Do you need help?” Connor wants to hug Tony, wants to kiss him, because his voice is still soft, but soft in the way that he gets when Derek’s had too many coffees in a row and is shaking out of his skin, in the way it gets when Eric tenses up when he takes too hard of a hit. Tony goes soft in the way he goes whenever he helps someone who’s hurting. Someone important to him. Connor feels special to be counted as one of those people.

Connor gets up on his own and takes his shirt off with his shoulders caved in, hiding his chest from Tony. He wraps a towel around his waist before he takes his boxers off, and he’s still unendingly grateful for the dividers in the showers that weren’t at a lot of the other colleges he toured. Tony is ready beside him, and they walk to the showers together. He starts up some sort of chatter that Connor is really focusing on as the team walks past, but no one stops them on their way out of the locker room so Connor can’t complain.

When they get to the showers only Eric is still there, and he’s gathering his things anyway. Connor turns his back to Eric as he gets into a stall and drapes his towel on the hook just outside of it. Connor can hear Eric pass behind him, and he caves his shoulders in again. Eric notices more things than most of the other guys, but that’s probably just because he’d been keeping his own secrets for so long.

Connor feels bad about how short he’s been with Eric, really, he does. It’s just that all the endearing names and all his time in the kitchen remind him of his mother, who, while she’d been supportive, had still treated him like a little girl well into his years on T. It wasn’t that Connor didn’t appreciate everything Eric did, because, really, he did. It’s just. It’s just that it’s all so. Emasculating isn’t the right word, because even though sometimes Eric sends him back in time to the days when his mother pulled on his pigtails and told him to help her with dinner while his dad worked in the yard, Eric never slipped up and said anything that could be skewed the wrong way to Connor.

Connor thinks that he’d like to be that secure in who he is, because Eric is a devil on his skates and can kegstand with the best of them, even though he spends most of his time in a flowery apron with flour up to his elbows. Because Connor has spent so long distancing himself from anything related to femininity that he thinks maybe he missed out on some things he could’ve really liked.

Eric leaves the showers and then it’s just him and Tony. It’s nothing he hasn’t done a thousand times, showering next to his teammate. But for some reason, this time seems so much more important. Connor tries to ignore it, stretching his shoulders when he reaches up to rinse the shampoo out of his hair. He shouldn’t have ignored it, it seems, when Tony asks him a question.

 “Hey, what are those?” Vines instantly pop into Connor’s head, but he doesn’t voice them aloud as he rubs the water out of his eyes to look at Tony. He’s gesturing along his chest, and Connor realizes with a sinking feeling just what Tony is asking him about. 

“Uhh.” He could lie. The thought pops into his head almost instantly, that he was in an accident, or he crashed over the handlebars of his bike, or a million other reasons why Connor’s got matching scars right under his pectorals. He could lie, but that feels wrong, after what just happened in the locker room. But Tony will look at him differently if he knows the truth. Connor doesn’t know what to do.

“Connor?” He’s been silent long enough that even Tony, with his lack of tact and social graces, has realized he asked the wrong question. “It’s cool, you don’t have to tell me.” He turns back to his soap and Connor closes his eyes against the spray of the showerhead.

“No, it’s chill. They’re from surgery.” Connor’s eyes are still closed, but he can imagine Tony turning back to face him, eyes wide.

“Surgery? Are you okay?” Connor lets out a short little laugh, then spits out the water that got into his mouth.

“Yeah, I’ve never been better. Really got some stuff off my chest.” Connor smiles to himself, because, really, that joke might never get old. Tony doesn’t really understand, though. “They’re, uh, from top surgery.” Tony tilts his head. Connor is really going to have to spell it out for him, huh? “Got my breast tissue removed, and all that good stuff.” Connor is sure he’s red as anything, but he can blame it on the hot water of the shower. Still, he refuses to look at Tony. He reaches for the body wash instead.

“Oh, I think I get it now.” Connor can feel Tony’s eyes come off of him. He chances a glance over, and yep, Tony’s looking at the ground. Fuck, this is exactly the kind of awkwardness Connor didn’t want. “I’m happy you trust me with this.” Connor looks back at Tony, who’s got a small frown on his face. “But I’m sorry if I did something to make you uncomfortable, or like you couldn’t tell me sooner.” Tony looks over to him. “And I’m sorry if you felt pressured to tell me.” His eyes are big and blue and all Connor can focus on. “Still bros?” Tony’s hand comes up for a fist bump, and Connor can’t find any reason in his head to deny him. He bumps his knuckles against Tony’s and feels a weight come off his shoulders. Someone at Samwell knows. Tony, from the hockey team, knows, and isn’t freaking out, or making things weird. And Tony can’t hide anything from Connor, so Connor would know if he was being anything less than entirely earnest.

“No, it wasn’t you.” God, how the fuck does Connor want to say this? “Coming out is…”

“Hard?” Well, that’s putting it lightly, isn’t it? “Yeah, I know. But I’ve found that telling one person at a time makes it easier, instead of a whole group at once.” Wait, wait, wait. Hold up. Tony’s got experience coming out? The shock must show on Connor’s face, because Tony laughs a little bit. “I meant to tell you I’m gay a few days ago, but there was never a good time to talk. You seemed pretty mad all the time, and now I guess I know why. The nicknames don’t help, do they?” Connor needs to process, because holy shit, the guy he’s had a crush on since basically meeting him is gay. He’s got a shot. But just because Tony’s gay doesn’t mean he’d be into Connor. Even though Connor is into him. Gah, it would be better if Connor didn’t have feelings at all, really.

“No, they kind of suck actually. Make my skin itch.” Connor turns the water off and grabs his towel. As he’s grabbing his things, he can hear Tony doing the same. “And thanks for trusting me with that, man. And, uh, same here.” Tony was super chill about Connor coming out, so it’s only right that Connor be chill about Tony doing the same. And while there’s all this coming out business, Connor may as well go the whole nine. It’s not like telling Tony he’s gay is any harder than telling him he’s trans.

They walk to the empty locker room together, and Connor slides his boxers on before taking his towel off. Tony is pointedly looking in the opposite direction, being obvious about giving Connor privacy. How sweet. “You going to the kegster tonight?” Really, they are probably both going right to the Haus once they change, like always after a big win, but Connor hates the silence.

“Of course. I really want to see you drink unhealthy amounts of alcohol upside down and then immediately regret it. I also think I’m on Nursey patrol tonight.” Connor winces. Derek is a sad drunk, and his ability to balance gets a million times worse when he’s had a few cups of tub juice. Connor don’t envy Tony in the slightest.

“You could probably get Will to look after him. Or Chris, but I think he’s supposed to be going out on a date with Caitlin tonight.” Tony gives him a look. No one is really supposed to shirk their Derek duties, but Connor really wants to hang out with Tony tonight. “Just tell them you’re on Connor duty. I am about to get mega-schwasted, after all.” Tony laughs, just like Connor hoped he would, high and clear. He shrugs his button up on, and wow, does he have nice forearms under those rolled up sleeves. Connor minds his own business by putting on his own shirt, pulling the polo on over his head. He grabs his tin of hair gel and runs it through his hair, making sure his undercut is clear of any strays. By the time he’s finished wiping his hands off, Tony has already pulled his shoes on and is staring at him.

“Yeah, I might just do that.” There’s something strange in Tony’s voice, like he’s out of breath. “Anyway, we should get going.” He gets up in a jerky motion, and Connor wants to know what the hell happened in the past five minutes that made things weird that’s different from the other half an hour that just happened. 

“Wait up, bro.” Connor just catches Tony by the door, throwing an arm around his shoulders. “Can’t go running off without me, that isn’t nice.” Tony is staring straight ahead, barely looking at Connor at all. Shit, did Connor make it weird? He pulls his arm from around Tony, letting it flop back down to his side. It’s mostly silent on the way to the Haus, because Connor tries saying some shit and Tony give stunted answers, with no questions of his own following. It isn’t like him.

“Connor! Tango!” It’s Adam, who must have been told about the locker room situation by Justin, and he’s definitely already three sheets to the wind, even though the party has barely started. Connor and Tony ascend the steps of the Haus and are immediately assaulted by Larissa’s party playlist being blasted at full volume, and a Haus not yet at full capacity but getting there quickly. Connor grabs Tony’s hand so they don’t get separated by the crowd, trying not to freak out the whole way to the kitchen. He lets go once they reach their destination, but Eric sees it anyway.

“Hey, you two!” Eric already has a solo cup in hand, with a handle in the other. Connor suspects the handle is not actually for Eric. Sure enough, Larissa comes in a second later and grabs the bottle from him, downing two shots immediately.

“Thanks, Bitty!” Her departing wave is obscured by the half empty bottle still in her hand. God, Connor hopes she doesn’t finish that before the night is over. He turns back to Eric and Tony, who now both have cups full of acid green tub juice. Eric holds one out to Connor, but he waves it off. He’s gonna get sloshed enough off the kegstands without the extra liquor. Even as he thinks it, two hands clap themselves onto his shoulders, heavy and warm.

“Time for celebrations, Connor!” It’s Adam, again, loud as ever. “You owe us your goal stands!” His voice is booming in Connor’s ear, and suddenly it’s all too much, he needs out of there. But it’s nothing if not impossible to get away from Adam when he’s drunk and got his mind set on something, and Justin isn’t much better, right now. “Up, up, up!” Connor lets out a small sigh and grabs the handles of the keg, letting Adam and Justin grab his legs to hoist him up. They put the tap in his mouth and turn it on, and he’s got no choice but to drink the pretty bad beer coming out. Once he’s done chugging alcohol and wants to breathe again, he spits out the still-running tap and Justin and Adam lower him to the ground almost immediately, though they do make sure he isn’t going to fall right away. Some volleyball player next to the keg turns the tap off.

“Ugh, where did you guys even get that from? Tastes terrible.” Adam’s laughter is booming, and takes up too much space in the room.

“You gotta do one more, Connor, don’t forget! But go drink some water first, don’t need you getting schwasted this early!” Right, like he and Justin aren’t going to be hungover as hell tomorrow. Good advice, Adam, maybe you should take it. Nevertheless, Connor makes his way back to the kitchen and grabs a water bottle from next to the fridge. Derek and Will are leaning against the counter, and Connor tips his water bottle at them when they lift their cups. He doesn’t really talk to them much, mostly because Derek is an English major, and Connor just doesn’t understand him, and also because Will might be getting better, but he still says some insensitive things sometimes. He’s growing, though, they all are, and everyone’s getting better all the time.

He turns and leaves the kitchen, resolving to go out on the porch for some air. The beer is starting to hit him, and with how much he drank, he wants to be sitting down for it. It doesn’t take as long as he thought it would to squeeze through the crowd to get out of the front door. Once the door is shut, there’s a small respite from the noise, even if it’s not much. And look, Tony is sitting on the steps.

“Hey, Tony.” Tony looks up to meet Connor’s eyes as Connor sits down next to him. Things are going slightly hazy, and everything’s got the warm tipsy glow on it. Connor lets himself lean against Tony’s shoulder and closes his eyes. It’s nice out here, with Tony. Connor wishes he could stay here forever. “Not feeling the party?” Connor doesn’t see Tony shrug, but his head is on Tony’s shoulder, so he feels it.

“I don’t know. Wasn’t in the mood for it, I guess.” Tony sounds sad, and that makes Connor sad. He wants Tony to be happy, always. He pulls back to face Tony, who faces Connor in return. Connor brings his hand up, and it’s not moving exactly the way he want it to, almost like he has to drag it through syrup to reach Tony’s face. He pets him on the cheek, or maybe the temple, Connor’s really not sure, but it’s some part of Tony’s face.

“What did I do?” Wow, that’s not what Connor wanted to say, but the alcohol has a funny way of making him say stupid things at the worst times. “You were fine before I told you all my shit.” Tony’s frowning even harder now, like Connor is saying something irredeemably stupid, and he might be, but his judgement has also never been worse. But still, his mouth keeps forming words that Connor is giving it permission to. “I don’t like it when you aren’t smiling. You should always be happy.” He pats at Tony’s face again, and he can see the beloved smile coming back the tiniest bit. “There it is. I love it when you smile.” And Connor smiles at Tony, soft and happy, making his eyes go to slits in his drunken haze.

“Oh, Connor.” Tony’s voice is gentle through his smile, but the moment is ruined when the porch door bangs open, and Derek comes busting out, with Will hot on his heels.

“Nursey, get back here!” But Derek’s still running, like he usually does whenever he’s drunk off his ass and wondering where Chris is. “Nursey!” Poor Will, Derek is faster than he looks, even when he’s got all the walking ability of a newborn foal. Connor looks back to Tony, who is still smiling, but it’s different from the one he had before they were interrupted. Connor’s got to go, though, because he’s gonna be sick, and he doesn’t want Tony to see that.

“Be right back.” And Connor goes back into the Haus, and up the stairs past the caution tape, because he doesn’t live here but he’s on the team. The bathroom is, thankfully, empty, so Connor shuts the door and heaves his guts up into the toilet bowl. It’s mostly just beer, because Connor’s an idiot and didn’t eat anything before he started drinking, and he doesn’t have much of a tolerance besides. He vomits again, and there’s a small break between heaves where he can hear knocking on the door. “Sorry, someone’s in here.” Connor rests his head against the cool plastic of the tub.

“I know.” It’s Eric, and Connor is suddenly minorly uncomfortable. He shouldn’t be here, shouldn’t be throwing up here, not in the Haus, not where he barely feels like he deserves to be most days because he might love the team, but they’re a lot, and sometimes he just can’t handle it. “Can I come in?” And Connor can’t say no, not to the soon-to-be-senior, not to the almost-definitely-going-to-be-team-captain.

“Yeah, sure.” Connor watches as Eric comes in, carrying a cloth and a water bottle. The water bottle he hands off to Connor immediately, who takes a couple of sips from it. The cloth he wets in the sink and presses against Connor’s forehead. Connor takes the cloth from him to wipe at his neck, which is making his hair curl with sweat. “You okay?” And Eric also has to be pretty drunk, because tub juice isn’t something to be taken lightly, and who knows how much of it he had?

“Yeah, m’fine.” Slurred words aside, Connor can totally stand up on his own. If standing means falling down almost immediately and cracking his face on the lip of the tub, then Connor can totally do that. The sudden fall makes Connor’s stomach recoil, and he can barely get his face over the toilet before he’s puking again. There’s another weird pain coming from his face, and not just the one that comes from upchucking stomach acid. There’s something warm dripping down his face, and when the blood hits the surface of the toilet water, Connor gets freaked out. “Am I bleeding?” Eric laughs.

“Yeah, you did catch yourself with your nose when you went down. That tends to start bleeding when that happens, though I don’t think it’s broken. Connor pulls back from the toilet long enough to flush it and drink some more water. The alcohol is starting to clear up from his head, probably thanks to most of it no longer being in his stomach. Now he’s cognizant enough to realize that the front of his shirt is covered in blood. Shit, he really liked this shirt, too.

“Oh, no.” Eric must understand your distress, because he holds out his hand.

“Give me that, I’ll rinse it right now so it’s less likely to stain.” Connor has enough presence of mind to put his shirt in the sink and run the cold tap after he peels it off, because no way is he making Eric touch his blood and probably puke stained shirt. Besides, it’s not like Connor doesn’t know how to get blood out of cotton. He used to do it basically once a month, after all. God, he’s so happy that stopped a few months after he started T. There is something he totally doesn’t miss. And he’s still a little drunk, and it’s been a big day, so he kind of doesn’t mean to make eye contact with Eric in the mirror.

“I’m trans.” Wow, Connor, there were a million better ways to do that. And sober Connor might never look Eric in the eye, but still-kind-of-drunk Connor is still a little on the rush of crushing Harvard, of coming out to Tony. Eric, for his part, barely even blinks.

“Oh, Connor, thank you for trusting me with this.” He puts a hand on Connor’s shoulder, and that’s enough contact for Connor, because he drops his eyes to where the water is starting to run clear in the sink. Good. His hands are cold. “I can’t really relate to anything you’re going through, but if you want to talk, I’m here.” Connor thinks he’s lucky his shirt is navy, because any remaining stains probably won’t show through the dark color.

“I think I like Tony.” Eric’s hand stops moving where it was rubbing soothing circles on Connor’s back. “I think I really like him.” Eric’s hand resumes it’s soothing, and it’s nice, it’s something Connor can focus on rather than the shit pouring out of his mouth. “What should I do?” Eric lets out a little hum.

“Well, hon, I’d say you should tell him, but that would be a little hypocritical of me. Jack was really the one who did all the work for the start of our relationship.” Eric’s got his thinking face on, and Connor turns the water off and wrings his shirt out. He can hang it on the rack in the basement and come pick it up later. Or maybe just on the towel rack here and hope no one uses it as an actual towel. Eh. “But you should probably wait until you aren’t drunk, Connor. That could lead to not good things.” And, yeah, a misunderstanding is the last thing Connor wants with Tony, because the last time the two of them miscommunicated, they’d missed an empty netter and made Coach yell at them for a solid five minutes on why clear communication was important. Not something Connor wants to relive.

“You think I should tell him?” And isn’t that a trippy idea, because Connor’s had this crush for what seems like forever, and there’s no way he can just _tell_ Tony. He’s told Tony way too much today already, he doesn’t need to know even more shit about Connor. Especially not this. Connor loves having Tony as a friend, and if he fucks that up, Connor doesn’t know what he’d do. So thanks for the advice, Eric, but Connor’s gonna keep this to himself until it goes away. Not that Connor thinks it will really, but he can pine to himself and not mess up any team dynamics.

“It’s up to you, Connor, but I think you should.” There’s another knock at the door, and Connor freaks a little, because he’s still shirtless, scars on full display. Bitty calls out to whoever is on the other side of the door. “I’ll be out in a minute!”

“Bitty?” And, fuck, it’s Tony. “I thought Connor came up here?” Connor lets his head drop down between his shoulders. So much is happening, and he’s still a little sloshed, so he’d like these things to stop happening until he can keep a coherent thought in his brain.

“Yeah, Tony, I’ll be out in a sec.” Connor rinses his mouth out at the sink before he opens the door and comes face to face with Tony. Connor turns his head to look at Eric. “Hey, uh, Eric, is there a shirt I can borrow?” He smiles a little. “Promise I won’t puke on it.” Eric comes out of the bathroom behind him, and Tony’s frown gets even deeper.

“Are you okay?” He’s concerned, bless him, and Connor reaches out a hand to pat at his face again. He should really stop doing that, it’s probably making Tony uncomfortable. But he can play it off like he’s still really drunk, even though that isn’t quite true anymore.

“Yeah, Tony, it’s just a bit of a rough night.” Tony doesn’t quite smile, but he stops frowning. That’s a plus, at least. “I think I might actually call it a night.” Eric comes back with a black tank top and it’s not the first thing Connor would have chosen to wear, but it’s better than the nothing he’s currently got, so he slips it on over his head. He’s about to head down the stairs and leave the house when Tony calls after him.

“Hey, Connor, wait up!” Tony almost knocks him down the rest of the stairs when he crashes into Connor, but Connor catches himself on the bannister, so crisis averted. They made it out of the door without much incident, even with Derek doing his best Salvador Dali clock impression at the bottom of the porch stairs. Will was at the top of the stairs, so he couldn’t be that bad off.

“What a day, huh?” Connor’s shoulder brushes Tony’s, and it would be so easy to reach out and take his hand; God, does Connor want to, but that’s too much, way too much. Maybe one day where he’s less sober than he is now. Liquid courage and all that. Tony’s skin is warm through his t-shirt against Connor’s bare shoulder. Tony hums.

“Hey, Connor?” Tony turns to face him, and his eyes are big and blue. “Can I tell you something?” And, oh, here it is, Tony’s not actually all that cool with him anymore, but he didn’t want to say that in front of the team. Shit, Connor is losing his cool remarkably fast. Breathe, Connor, you can handle this. It’s just like those assholes from high school who snapped your sports bra and didn’t stop until your line mates beat the shit out of them. But it’s just a boy you’ve had a crush on for months, so it’s not really like that at all, and you don’t know if the team would actually support you, because you hang out with the lax bros and not around the Haus and the frogs love Tony so much more than they care about you and- “Connor, calm down!” Tony’s voice breaks you out of your hyperventilating haze. “Breathe, come on.”

They’ve stopped in the middle of the walkway to the freshman dorms, and Connor kind of can’t feel his hands, or parts of his face anymore. He may or may not have a nose, or a tongue, or fingers. Who knows? But Tony’s hands on his face feel real, and warm, and are grounding. Connor realizes the high whistling sound he’s been hearing is actually him, breaths coming much too quickly to be normal. Now that Connor realizes he’s hyperventilating, it’s easier to stop, but every time he thinks he’s got his breathing under control, it speeds back up. Tony’s even exaggerating his own breaths to make them easy for Connor to follow, but it’s not helping all that much.

“Connor, please, I don’t actually know what to do for these. Just, if I started this, I want you to know that I’m not mad at you, or uncomfortable around you, or anything bad, I promise.” The words individually make some kind of sense to Connor, but he doesn’t have the brain capacity to really sort them all out together. His brain is still focused mainly on the adrenaline coursing through his blood, urging him to run, urging him to freeze up and stay perfectly still, heart beating right out of his chest. “I just… I just wanted to tell you something but I guess that was a bad idea, huh?” And Tony looks so sad, and Connor hates it when Tony looks sad because when Tony looks sad he kind of looks like a puppy that’s been kicked around and was left at the back of its cage in the kennel as it watched you adopt a different puppy and basically watching Tony get sad is enough to knock Connor mostly out of his head because comforting Tony is pretty easy once you know how to do it.

Connor wraps Tony up in a hug so tight they both stop breathing for a second, and then Connor readjusts himself so that Tony’s head is in the crook of Connor’s neck and they can both breathe, standing in the middle of the sidewalk in the middle of the night. Tony’s arms come around to clutch at Connor’s borrowed tank top, fingernails scraping against his skin. It’s more grounding to hold and be held, so the panic wears off relatively quickly now that Connor isn’t worrying about himself. In his adrenaline-crashing tiredness, he presses a kiss to Tony’s temple like he’s wanted to do every single time they hugged like this before. Tony freezes up in his arms before holding him even tighter, though still pretty comfortably.

“Okay, I’m gonna tell you that thing I was gonna tell you earlier. Promise me you won’t get mad?” Connor rests his cheek against Tony’s hair. 

“Promise.” Connor can feel the shuddering breath Tony lets out. It kind of tickles.

“I like you.” Connor hopes that Tony likes him, they’re best friends. Unless… holy shit. “I _like you_ like you.” And, wow, are they in middle school or what, but Connor can’t really find it in himself to be annoyed with the wording because holy shit, Tony likes him. _Likes him_ likes him. Shit.

“You wanna know a little secret, Tony?” He doesn’t reply, but he nods, and close as they are, Connor gets the message. “I like you like you, too.” It’s not the smoothest thing Connor’s ever said to someone he was interested in, but it gets the job done, because those are tears seeping into his shirt, and Tony’s squeezing tight enough to pop his vertebrae. There is one problem with this all, though. “I’m really happy we got that all out there, like, you have no idea, but can we also go inside because I’m freezing.” Tony laughs against his throat, but pulls away obligingly.

“Yeah, Connor, we can do that.” His 1000-watt smile is back, and it feels like the sun after too many cloudy days. They keep walking down to the dorms, and Connor doesn’t stop himself from reaching for Tony’s hand this time.

“Is this okay?” Tony’s smile is gentle and something new, something just for them.

“Yeah.” He squeezes Connor’s hand the tiniest bit. “It’s pretty chill.” They reach a fork in the path, and it’s time for them to leave, because they live in separate buildings. Neither of them let go of the other as they come to a stop.

“You know,” Connor starts, “I’d kiss you if I was pretty sure my mouth didn’t taste like ass. Just so you know.” He did puke about an hour ago, and gargling the tap didn’t really help much with it. Tony blushes despite the crude words, though.

“I’ll see you tomorrow for team breakfast?” Connor smiles.

“Hell yeah you will.” And Tony does something Connor was definitely not expecting. He grabs Connor’s other hand and pulls stoops down an inch to kiss him on the cheek. It’s soft, and light, and strikes Connor down to his core. Tony pulls away, smiling that gentle smile. He lets go of Connor’s hands.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” Tony turns away, leaving Connor standing there, still starstruck. Wow, he is so gone on this boy. Tony only looks back once, and gives Connor a little wave. It gets Connor moving toward his own dorm, so he can sleep the alcohol and shock off. God, he can’t wait for tomorrow.

**Author's Note:**

> this was supposed to be like 1000 words bc i hate getting called by nicknames bc i chose my name for a reason goddamnit and its for people to use it but then it kind of... developed. also, in the spirit of publishing a fic every month this year, it got a little rushed toward the end.
> 
> again, i can't speak to the binary trans experience, but this is very reflective of my feelings as a non-binary person. hope y'all enjoyed! leave a kudos or a comment, cause they keep me writing!


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